


Fortune Set

by LogosMinusPity



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bilgewater is always quite the place to meet, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Ship battles and adventures on the high seas, a pirate hunter and an assassin walk into a bar..., shiver me limbers, two redheads one boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogosMinusPity/pseuds/LogosMinusPity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sarah Fortune walks into one of Bilgewater’s taverns, investigating what ruckus has it stirred up this time around, a Noxian assassin is the furthest thing she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Set

**Author's Note:**

  * For [multishep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/multishep/gifts).



> This goes out to multishep/flightshep for encouraging me to expound more on MF/Kat and their dynamic ever since I wrote "Blood from the Stone". Hope this lives up to expectations, buddy!
> 
> To all others, I hope you read and enjoy--comments and criticisms are always welcomed. Thanks for taking the time to read.

The Port of Bilgewater was a place Sarah Fortune preferred not to stay at dock in for too long.  It was a raucous, inebriated disorder of guns and rum and hot tempers that by all means should have burnt down and sunk into the Guardian Sea centuries ago.

It was home, though.

Always had been, and always would be, and there was nothing quite like it.

Still, better not to stay in port too long when it could be helped.

She never knew what disaster was bound to break out next.

And even having just freshly docked and jumped onto land, Bilgewater was always full of nighttime surprises, the first of which was only a stone’s toss from the pier.

The Drowned Wench was a “fine establishment” that scraped the bottom of the barrel, even by Bilgewater standards. It had stood for generations, though, the bar closest to the main docks, and would continue to as long as sailors never learned to have patience and move further into main street to where the better booze and services lay.

Even for the Wench, though, there was an unusual amount of traffic streaming inside.

Fortune pursed her lips for a second, and then sighed, heading through the ever-open doorway to the aural cacophony inside.

She was greeted by bright lights, heavy smoke, a floor that stuck to the soles of her boots from the constant layer of spilled drinks that coated it.

A few typical lewd cheers met her upon entry, but for once, the attention of the sea rats was firmly fixated elsewhere.

Fortune twisted her lips, a well practiced motion of bemused disgust.

At the corner table near the back of the bar sat a woman who looked as out of place in the Drowned Wench as she would at any other tavern in the whole of Bilgewater.

And that--especially in conjunction with the winking flash of metal coins and cold steel in her hands--meant trouble.

The bottom feeders scattered as soon as Fortune approached the table.  Smarter than they realized; their current target wasn’t half as stupid as they clearly thought, and easily ten-fold more dangerous.

Fortune, on the other hand, recognized a Noxian assassin as soon as she laid eyes on one...particularly one quite as notorious as this.

Eyes as green as poison, hair as red as freshly spilled blood, one single and unapologetic scar bisecting her left brow and eyelid.

No, really...the question was rather: what was someone so high-ranking as _the_ Du Couteau assassin doing in Bilgewater of all places?

Sure, they had their own fair share of contracts and unspoken agreements with their larger and more imperialistic cousins on the mainland, but it was hardly reason for one of their nobility and members of High Command to show their face on the Blue Flame Islands.

There were multiple implications to it, and just as many potential reasons.

Still, the woman in front of her was clearly brine-soaked, not yet dry. Had she been on that galleon just freshly sunk off the reef? She certainly didn’t look happy to be in the only tax free haven this side of Valoran.

Even so...there was no excusing sheer idiocy.

Without bothering to pause or introduce herself, Fortune slid easily into the seat across from Katarina, words lashing from her tongue even as she kept a warm and congenial smile plastered to her face for the onlookers that she _knew_ were still watching with interest.

“And just what the hell are you thinking, flashing gold marks around like that?  You’re in a pirate port, in case you hadn’t noticed, and gold will get you attention plenty if you--”

Eyes flashed liquid green before she could even finish talking.

“And if anyone here thinks that they can best me, then I’ll be more than happy to correct them.  Lethally.”

Fortune swore.  Were all Noxians this idiotic?  She forced a low, thin smile onto her face, reminding herself that the woman in front of her likely knew next to nothing about pirates, and was a waterlogged and irritated assassin...one with a taste for bloodshed, if word was true.  Not to mention she was nobility.  Bloody nobility.

“And I’ve no desire to be cleaning up after whatever messes you leave behind,” she finally managed, feeling something of her usual strut sink back into her smile and tone.  No need to let the bottom dwellers who were still eyeing the both of them think anything was amiss.

“So why don’t you calm down…” Fortune kept both hands on the table, fingers spread wide to show how unarmed she was, and slid one palm across the stained and pitted wood until it cautiously tipped against the assassin’s pinky. The slight contact was enough for the woman to clearly tense and twitch, though she didn’t immediately draw steel.  That was a start. “...and listen to what I have to say.  I’m Fortune, by the way. Sarah Fortune. Or Miss Fortune to most in these parts.”

She offered her open palm, waiting for a response. It wasn’t immediately forthcoming, but when a hand finally clasped hers, she could feel the distinct callouses that indicated just how well acquainted this particular dog of Noxus was with her dagger. Not just all bark, then.

“Katarina Du Couteau.” Of course, Fortune already guessed as much. There weren’t many options coming out of the Empire that matched the physical description for the Sinister Blade. “So just what do you have to say?  Make it quick.”

Bloody. Nobles. Still, _rich_ nobles, and business had been slow.

“You’re looking to get passage out of here.  Back to Noxus.”

“And you’re offering?” Katarina was already twirling a dagger in her spare hand, only half giving her attention, providing the exact image of disinterest.

“Maybe,” admitted Fortune. She leaned back, taking the liberty of grabbing Katarina’s mug of swill they called ale. “My ship’s already scheduled to leave in three days’ time from port, and Noxus is only a few leagues out of my way.”

Katarina interrupted, arrogantly forceful. “Tomorrow.  Leave tomorrow.”

Fortune finishedthe ale, taking an extra moment to wipe her lips clean of foam with a finger.  She waggled the same finger at the gorgeously dangerous woman in front of her. “Doesn’t work like that.  Three days.  Safe passage back to...what do they call it?  High Command?”

Katarina scoffed. “You said it yourself.  I have gold enough, as does my family. If you aren’t willing to take me, then I’ll find someone else.”

That earned a properly derisive laugh. “One of Gangplank’s men, then? Sure, go right ahead, darling. This is _Bilgewater_ , sweetheart...there are no passenger ships here. You’ll get what you pay for.”

“And just what are you offering?”

Finally Du Couteau’s attention was focused wholly on Fortune, so she relaxed, slouching even more in her chair. After all, Katarina was a happenstance interest. Fortune wasn’t going to be the one to lose out if she walked away from the bar empty-handed. “I’m a pirate- _hunter_ , not a pirate.  I’ll do exactly what I say. I’m off from port in three days’ time, and I was planning on moving along the coastline anyway in search of my current bounty. You’ll be on Noxian shores in a week.  Guaranteed.”

“For a price.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Always for a price.  You should know that.” She gave Katarina a long once-over.  State-sponsored assassin or no, the woman was quite...catching.  And clearly knew it, even if she didn’t put herself on display quite as much as Fortune; but then, not many women did.  Still, the skin tight and scant leathers set a message just as clear as the multiple daggers and studs.

Certainly not a boring woman, to be sure.  Of course, Noxians rarely were.

“So what do you say...Katarina?  Think you can stomach three more days?”

Her eyes narrowed into acidic slits.  She shook her still-dying hair back out of her face. “No delays.  Or deal’s off and I’ll find someone else.”

There was no reason to point out how much _more_ time that would take, though Fortune was tempted to.  Instead she raised both palms in a placating gesture. “Got it, got it.  Meet at the docks tomorrow to discuss terms of payment with me; my ship’s the clipper on the southern wharf, the _Siren of the Sea_.  Hard to miss.”

Without a pause, Fortune rose.  It had been a long enough day, and as pretty as current company might be, she wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and go to sleep, and doubtlessly Miss Katarina Du Couteau felt much the same.

“If you’re looking for a more...reputable...place to stay for the next few nights, let me recommend _The Lady’s Luck_ just west of main street, or _The Greedy Alcove_ by center square.  You’re less likely to find...disturbances there.  Not to mention they have cleaner sheets.  I can vouch for it.”

Katarina let out a low grunt.  No “thank you” was forthcoming, but she, too, began to rise. “I guess I’ll check it out...if I’m stuck here for another three whole days.”

A chuckle escaped her before Fortune could think to hold it back. “There are a great many things that Bilgewater can offer for entertainment, you’ll find.  After all, we seafaring kind get _itchy_ when stuck ashore for too long.”

 _If you catch my drift._  

Ah, but brevity was the soul of wit.  And there was a hot bath waiting to be pulled for her.

“I’ll see you in the morning then...Kat.”

Fortune tipped her hat once, and turned on heel to strut out of the bar.  She didn’t turn back once, but she didn’t need to in order to know at least one pair of eyes was studying her rather intently.

Something to look forward to tomorrow, then.

 

* * *

 

It was only with a small measure of surprise that Miss Fortune recognized that swathe of crimson hair cutting it’s way through the crowds of the docks the next morning. Crowd was, of course, a relative term. The hungover excuses for sailors that were busied with loading and unloading goods from the small fleet of ships were hardly a difficulty to navigate.

Fortune watched with no small amount of amusement as Katarina stalked toward her ship, finally reaching the pier and glaring up at where Fortune remained on the fo’c’sle of the deck.

“I’m here,” she declared loudly.

Well _that_ much was obvious.

Fortune smiled back down, chuckling, hooked her legs around one of the anchoring ropes and slid onto the pier, taking a moment to study her would-be passenger.

Daggers at her side, violent glare, crossed arms that only pushed the considerable cleavage even more into her eyes’ view…

“Indeed you are,” she finally replied.

“Well?”

Ever impatient. Not that it was surprising.

Fortune sighed. “This way, love. We’ll talk details in my office.”

Catching the questioning glance that was tossed back toward _The Siren_ , Fortune laughed and waggled her fingers.

“I _do_ have an office in the dock building, believe it or not. In fact I own that entire building right there. Hardly going to invite you right into my captain’s quarters just yet.”

She smirked and led the way into the brick-work building alongside the pier without another word, not bothering to turn back. She knew that Katarina was following, through the entryway and the foyer, up the balustrade to where the office suite lay.

For all of the relatively simple exterior, Fortune kept her building as well furbished as her ship.  The interior was paneled with dark wood, smooth masonry, and sea glass chandeliers. It was perhaps not so exquisite a holding as what a member of the long-standing high nobility of Noxus might be used to, but it was hardly plain.

She ushered Katarina into her pier office, carefully closing the door behind them, carefully seeking the cautious glimmer of approval in Katarina’s glinting eyes as she surveyed her new surroundings.

Pleased with what she saw, Fortune settled into the leather chair behind her driftwood constructed desk. Rather than jumping straight into “business”, as she knew Katarina would prefer it, sherummaged through one drawer, drawing forth a well-aged flask of rum and two polished crystal glasses.

They might not be in a tavern, but that hardly meant deals could be struck without liquor present. It was Bilgewater, after all.

Fortune poured a generous finger of rum into into each glass. The bottle was a vintage, one of the first years of Rapture Rum distillery.

Katarina tossed her back as soon as they clinked, whereas Fortune tended to hers at a more gentle sip. When she refilled her guest’s glass, though, Kat followed suit. It was only then that talk became suitable.

“So, passage back to Noxus it is, correct?”

Katarina’s lips curved around the edge of her glass. “Yes. In two days time now, _correct_?”

Fortune leaned back into her leather chair, lounging comfortably.

“You are indeed correct. We set sail in two more days. I was planning on moving up the coastline, so we’ll simply set direct course to the main Noxian port due east of the capital. I presume it won’t be hard for you to get from port to the city proper once you’ve docked?”

Katarina shook her head, a cascade of red.

“Good, then it’s simply a matter of terms of payment.”

Katarina waved one hand, lips twisting with distaste at the talk of money. “You’ll get your dues. A Du Couteau always pays their debts, Miss Fortune.”

She fished at her belt, hand returning to the desk a moment later with a curiously imprinted golden coin. A coat of arms perhaps?

“This token, along with the letter of goodwill I’ll write for you once we make land, can be exchanged at any Noxian banker for a sum of five thousand gold crowns. Does that suffice? Or do you need a cursory down payment?”

Fortune reached out to take the coin, letting her fingers drag against Katarina’s open palm for one long second.

“Not necessary.” The coin was placed neatly into her own waist pouch. “My crew is making all the necessary arrangements to set sail, but my ship is hardly a passenger vessel, Kat.”

Katarina waved her hand, downing the rest of her glass. “As long as it’s the first and fastest way off this rock, then I don’t give a damn. Deal.”

They shook hands, a tight and lingering clasp as both refused to back down from the unspoken contest of wills.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

“So, tell me again just exactly how you ended up stuck in port here?” drawled Fortune, pocketing the brass change as the server took her silver and dumped another round of ales on the hardwood table.

Not that Katarina had yet told her at all how the assassin wound up in a bottom beat tavern looking like a half-drowned rat and ready to whet her blades against living flesh and blood.

Of course, a few pints of properly brewed drinks at a more reputable joint like _The Lady’s Luck_ could help ease anyone into conversation. Fortune was pleased to see that Katarina had taken her advice and rented a room out at the establishment, though she knew far better than to mention it. She would simply take her silent victories and keep them to herself in these matters.

Katarina, for her part, gave a somewhat sour _hmph_ at the query, but still took a slow and generous drink of her fresh pint of ale. It was only once the drink was set back down and her pink tongue darted out to lick clean herlips that Fortune felt certain she would actually get some information on her new passenger.

“Bit of a botched end to the assignment I was on.” Her lips twisted further in remembered disapproval. “The idiots weren’t supposed to steer into the reef after I’d killed the admiral.”

“What’d he do to piss of Noxus so much to warrant his death from the top?”

Katarina smile, eerie and violent, and incredibly attractive in it’s own way. “High Command doesn’t take well to people who take contracts with us...and with our enemies. ‘Blood for Noxus’, as the saying goes.”

Which perhaps said far more about Noxus than what even the Grand General and his cronies even realized. The Great Empire was an interesting creature, even more so since the old guard of High Command had been usurped by Swain; of course, as long as they remained unofficial allies with Bilgewater, what went on in the Empire was not high priority on Fortune’s concerns. She’d taken plenty of her own bounties from Noxus’ coin, after all. While gold still flowed, she would doubtlessly be taking more Noxian contracts.

So who was she to judge? Any seafarer stupid enough to try and double-cross Noxus had it coming, as far as she was concerned.

Still, Fortune was oblivious to all of the political intrigue in the Dark City, and it was interesting to note that a member of the once nigh-untouchable Du Couteau family would have found herself on a mission ending up in Bilgewater of all places, rather than Demacia or even Ionia. Food for thought.

While munching on that particular bit of information, Fortune stretched in her seat, leaning back with her arms in a lazy lounge while extending her feet outward, one booted foot pushing up to rest against Katarina’s calf. She watched through half-lidded eyes as Katarina leaned forward with one elbow on the table, letting Fortune run the toe of her boot up and down, up and down the curve of muscle obscured only a scant layer of leather.

Her green eyes glittered, hot and liquid and cutting as a knife.

It was a look that Fortune knew--how she knew it. She worked to incite it, to provoke it, to call that gleam of physical desire and stoke the flames there to her exact liking. Not that there was any particular motive for tussling with a Du Couteau in the bedroom. Their deal had already been struck, gold already agreed upon. But Katarina _intrigued_ her, and Fortune was never one to deny herself pleasure when the opportunity both arose and interested her.

Heat uncoiled in her gut, like a swing of cinnamon-spiced rum hitting her stomach.

She let her voice drop in pitch, suggestion low and dusky.

“Have the rooms here been up to your standards ?”

Katarina made a noise of wordless and uncaring approval, andsuddenly the pressure against Fortune’s boot was gone. Katarina was standing to her full and lean height, drink finished and forgotten on the table. Her gaze narrowed cunningly downward.

“Well? Are you coming?”

She started walking without waiting for an answer, and Fortune allowed herself a soft chuckle before sliding out from her chair and following that set of long legs down the hall, up the stairs, and to the last door on the right.

The flash of a brass key opened it quickly, Katarina entering the bedroom suite first leaving Fortune to follow on her heels.

Fortune closed the door behind them, and as the lock fell into place, so too did in any form of pretenses. Katarina was on her in a flash, shoving her against the wood grain of the unsuspecting door, mouth and teeth and lips just as rough as her hands--commanding, domineering, demanding everything and more.

And Fortune let Kat have her way with her. Again. And again. And again.

Katarina was hardly a disappointment.

 

* * *

  

Whatever nostalgia might strike on leaving port in Bilgewater was always overwhelmed by the prospect of being back on the open seas. The Blue Flame Islands might be her home upon land, but to Sarah Fortune, her heart was ever with the ocean. The spray of sea foam, the salt in the air...

They were all sailors and pirates for a reason, after all.

Not that there was time to relish it.

Setting sail from port was always chaotic at best. Every last man and woman on board had to do their part to make a seamless and accident free transition from the busied bay out to the clear ocean waves. And it was Fortune’s job as captain to see to it that each person actually _was_ doing their job and contributing.

Everyone on her current crew had worked at least one voyage with her before; they were used to her mannerisms, her style of command on her ship. They hadn’t picked up any new faces while in Bilgewater...except for one.

Fortune wasn’t in the habit of taking passengers on her ship, unless they were in the brig. So it took a hard moment of reminding herself _not_ to snap out orders at Katarina. The woman was clearly not a sailor, and about as useful on deck as a sack of dead weight. It was only after nearly biting on her tongue that Fortune was able to kindly suggest Katarina rest in the captain’s quarters while they manned the ship for getting out to sea.

Thankfully, Katarina took to the suggestion, disappearing beneath the poop deck and leaving Fortune to wholly focus on her crew and getting smoothly on course. Which they did. Of course.

Only once the stars had begun to repopulate the skies was Fortune finally confident in trusting the ship to her first mate and navigator for the night.

Katarina was waiting in the captain’s quarters, arms crossed and one boot tapping impatiently. Predictable. Though for once, Fortune could understand why.

The seas’ offerings this far from the mainland had always been plentiful, and it seemed as though the cook had already gotten a very, very good haul in.

The navigation table--so called because of how Fortune typically littered it with maps and bounty notes and compasses--was cleared, covered with an impeccable array of dishes and foods.

A cream bisque of fresh shellfish and shrimp, seared scallops, raw oysters, whole snapper fish and even a bright red and freshly boiled lobster.

In that moment, Fortune felt the heated exhaustion of the day’s work drain away, and she smirked at Katarina. This was _her_ home, after all, and she felt confident in it.

She walked around to her side of the table, and filled the glasses with freshly spiced wine.

“Shall we?”

There was no need to talk, not while their mouths and stomachs wereso otherwise occupied. If there was any question over what Katarina thought of the veritable feast served before her, it was dispelled with how clearly impressed she was.

It was only once they were both filled to sinful fullness that they settled into easy and casual conversation, glasses refilled with wine, easing Fortune’s tongue and sun-wearied muscles to a pleasant languor.

“You treat your guests well,” murmured Katarina around the rim of her goblet, the earlier chaos of setting off from the the bay now long forgotten.  It was the closest to demur that Fortune had ever seen her.  Coy, almost, if it was possible for her to be that.

Fortune smiled back, knowing. “I like to think so...that I help slake their thirsts, feed their hungers.  No need left unmet on my ship.”

She waited, waited for the exact moment that Katarina twitched, about to move and stand, and then took action herself.

They met halfway, and Fortune tasted the sweet and spiced dregs of the wine on Katarina’s lips and then her tongue.

Hands snaked greedily at her waist, nails drawing red scores against her hips that had her moaning before she could catch herself.

Not that she would have stopped herself.

There was no need in Fortune’s mind to keep up some strange sense of appearances. Not here and now of all places.

Of course, one thing had changed since setting out to sea.

She twisted, leveraging herself and knocking Katarina down into the mattress first, straddling her legs.

Katarina brought one knee up against the junction of her thighs, making the world go deliciously dizzy for a moment, but when she tried to push further and shift positions, Fortune shoved her back into the sheets, with no small amount of force, smirking. “I’m the captain here, Du Couteau.  Fancy Noxian titles mean nothing when you’re riding the sea.  But this one…” she paused for a moment to tip her tripoint hat, before tossing it aside with a cavalier grace. “...this is the only title that matters.”

“Oh?” Katarina grinned back tauntingly, but did not again try to reverse positions, clearly content to see where things would go next.  Her slender eyebrow tugged her scar upward. “And so what are the orders then, _captain_?”

Fortune took her time settling over Katarina, straddling both hips and the thick leather belts that criss-crossed them.  As she pushed her hands on either sides of Katarina’s smug face, a stray lock of hair dangled down, her own brighter red mixing with darker, foreign tendrils of crimson.  She’d have to put it up soon, keep it from continuing to fall in the way.

“I think right now…” She let the words slide off her tongue in a slow and sensual drawl.  There was hardly a need for such tactics around Kat, but some habits were too ingrained, and she enjoyed the way Katarina’s dark pupils suddenly dilated, swallowing out the green. “...the captain would like to ride you.”

 

* * *

 

Katarina was always a good lay, Fortune would give her that much.

Certainly one of the best she’d shared her bed with in a while. There would be some measure of fond regret once they reached Noxian shores, but--Fortune touched one of the tender bruises at her neck--it was probably best for the both of them if they wanted fully unblemished skin for any extended period of time.

Appearances were so necessary in Fortune’s line of work, at least.

Besides, she had a feeling that the winds would hardly see this first meeting between them as their last one.

So it was with an unusually cheerful whistle that Miss Fortune took the helm from her navigator as the sun dipped below the flat horizon, directing the clipper across the waves.

Only as darkness had truly begun to set did the alarm bell came clanging into life from the crow’s nest lookout.

“Port side! Galleon!”

Fortune whipped her head around, eyescope in hand, though there was hardly any need for it. The ship in question had the winds full in its favor, and was closing the distance fast, flags flapping in the wind.

“Corvitt,” she hissed.

Hoping to catch them when Fortune’s attention wasn’t firmly focused on collecting the bounty on his head. He’d been a slippery one for the past year and more, and with the winds and his larger number of cannons, she had no doubts about what the slimy rat had in mind.

“Bastard thinks he can corner us under the cover of dusk…”

“Someone you know?” Katarina’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Uncollected mark, yes,” gritted Fortune without turning around. The winds were in Corvitt’s favor, and he was rapidly gaining on them despite their maneuvers.

They had no choice but to engage.

“Man the cannons! Starboard! On my call!” Fortune waited, waited as both ships lined up parallel to one another. “Fire!”

The air filled with the thunder of cannon shots, far more coming from Corvitt’s sizeable ship than her small clipper.

 _Shit_.

This was not a battle she could afford to keep up with. There was an entire level of martial difference between her _Siren_ and Corvitt’s behemoth. She scanned the opposing galleon frantically, searching, thinking...thinking of the reports she’d heard on how Corvitt tended to partition his storage below deck.

“All cannons--aim for the front bow! Just beyond the first cannon window!”

There was a frantic moment as the cannon were gradually readjusted, turned just the faintest amount toward the new point target. She grimaced as they waited, canons firing back at them all the while, and not all of them striking water.

But…

“Fire!”

Each canon hissed and then boomed across the air, and Fortune was rewarded not simply by the sound of cracking timbers, but by the resultant explosion that tore away a sizeable chunk of the galleon as they struck Corvitt’s gunpowder stores.

The galleon was dead on the water, a ticking time bomb until the blackpowder fires doomed it to the sea. But Fortune wasn’t one to rely on luck.

“Prepare to board!”

Her navigator pulled the clipper in smoothly alongside the already listing galleon. The opposing crew was, predictably, ready to repel a hostile boarding. But Fortune was more than prepared for that detail, as well.

The flintlocked, custom pistols pulled free from her holsters as smooth as the first fresh cut of aged rum. They were a Piltovian hextech design, designed to do so, so much more than fire _just once_.

The first rallying cry from Corvitt’s crew began to gain volume--the coward wasn’t even close to the forefront, still standing well and sheltered behind his sailors. Fortune stepped up to the edge of her deck, laughter already growing on lips, and unleashed her barrage.

Over and over, her pistols cracked, emptying waves of ammunition as the air turned black with gunpowder and laughter.

Corvitt’s men broke ranks and scattered, and her crew quickly began to board, chasing them down in a hunt that she was certain would end in her favor. Her initial attack finished, Fortune carefully reloaded her guns with a few more rounds and followed suit onto the galleon. Swords clashed around her,the cracks of groaning timbers and emptied flintlocks, and the air grew thick for all the burning of the ship and powder alike. Even cornered like this, it was only a matter of time until Corvitt struck from the smoke and--

A wordless scream of impotent rage cut through it all, and Corvitt jumped at her from atop the poop deck, scimitar in two hands, aiming for a lucky and killing strike. Fortune swung her flintlocks around, but without need.

A flurry of black and red and bright silver steel struck Corvitt with the force of a typhoon, slamming him into the deck, a dozen slashes already opened and dripping crimson on his skin.

Corvitt stood no chance, but then there were few who did when they were the target of a Noxian assassin.

“Katarina!”

The assassin stopped in the blink of an eye, the edge of a blood-soaked dagger pressed to the throat of the pirate.

She didn’t waver, she didn’t show even the faintest glimmer of hesitation. One green eye slanted back toward Fortune, catching her gaze in a fierce and unbreaking challenge.

“Bounty?” she drawled. It was low, not necessarily meant to be seductive, but it sent an appreciative thrill running straight from Fortune’s neck low into her gut. Nevermind the blood and gore. Or perhaps in light of it.

Regardless, Fortune shrugged easily, holstering one ornate pistol at her hip while spinning the other on her fingers, thinking, thinking, thinking.

“Never specified.”

The upward tilt of Katarina’s lips was just nearly imperceptible.

“Blood for Noxus.”

He was dead in a spray of arterial blood before he could even think to beg for mercy.

They steered away from the burning wreckage that had recently been a proud galleon, broken timbers falling into dark waters, the surface of the waves now illuminated only by the orange and gold flames that ate away at what the sea had not yet claimed.

Fortune watched solemnly for a long moment, a silent salute toward the once noble vessel, and prayer of good luck on her own stalwart clipper.

She turned back around--

\--to find Katarina leaning comfortably against the rail, sheathing away a freshly cleaned and sparkling dagger, andeyeing Fortune with clear and open suggestion in her body language.

Fortune looked her over--looked over the dangerously appealing invitation--once more before choosing her words. “...you aren’t allowed anywhere near my bed until you wash off, by the way.”

Katarina’s laugh was clear and easy, care-free in its cruelty.

 

* * *

 

 

The main port of Noxus was bustling in the broad daylight, enough so that Fortune counted herself lucky to have gotten pier to dock her clipper at for the day. Most of her crew was already busied with settling who would be allowed to go out into market for a bit versus who would stay with the ship, and Fortune was busied with seeing off her one-time passenger.

“Noxus. Safe and sound, just as I promised.”

Katarina’s lips curled upward in pleased amusement, and after a moment, she proffered a piece of freshly inked parchment. “And here’s my signed offer of credit as promised. There should be a banker just in the main square here if you’re eager to get your pay.”

Oh, she would before they left port to continue up the coastline. But in the meantime...

What was the proper parting call to a woman who murdered men in the dark for a living? Fortune hardly knew or cared, so she went with what came to mind first and foremost.

“Let me know if you get stranded in Bilgewater again, Kat. It was fun.”

Apparently, they were the right words to say. Katarina gave a wicked grin, eyes gleaming sharp as bright gems. “It’ll be too soon if I’m never in that backwater pirate shack again, but if you find yourself inland at the capital…”

She left the sentence unfinished, turning her back and starting down the wooden pier toward her proper homeland, one hand tossed up in a casual farewell, while the other settled on the hilt of a dagger, a firm and knowing caress.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another thank you to swapbats for kindly editing my initial disaster of a draft. Who knows how this would have read otherwise?


End file.
